


Even Dragons Have Their Endings

by asroarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Mutual Pining, POV Bellamy, Pining, Protective!Bellamy, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, dragon!bellamy - Freeform, princess!clarke, protective!Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asroarke/pseuds/asroarke
Summary: “Your Highness,” Murphy calls out. She jerks upright in a panic, her eyes wide as she glances between the two of them. “Great. The one time I get a good guy as a dragon, he accidentally kidnaps a princess.”“He didn’t kidnap me!” she shouts, jumping to her feet.“Do you really think that matters, Princess? It still looks like he took you.”The dragon AU where Bellamy's curse can actually help someone for once.





	Even Dragons Have Their Endings

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head for nearly a year now. I wanted to write it last summer, but the person I tried talking it out to shut down the idea as problematic (calling it Stockholm Syndrome-y and toxic... which it's not, not even close jfc) before I could ever really explain it... so I abandoned the idea for a really long time. It's amazing how many story ideas of mine die because someone who doesn't even listen is quick to label it just because they don't like a certain trope. 
> 
> Words of hatred kill creativity, pass it on. Be nice to each other or just don't say anything at all.

No one goes near the tower. No laws forbid it, but everyone in the village knows not to. Bellamy and Octavia had been raised on the horror stories of young women who get too close and are taken by the fearsome dragon that guards the tower.

Over the years, his people figured out just how far from the tower the dragon could travel. All roads that would have crossed into the dragon’s territory have been cut off. There are signs all around the perimeter, warning passersby to stay far from the tower. Thus, it has been six long years since anyone approached the it.

And since Bellamy inherited the dragon curse after slaying the last dragon, that means he hasn’t seen another person in six years. Well, other than Murphy. But he doesn’t count.

That’s why he jumps up in a panic when he hears a woman’s voice call out, “Hello?”

It would be easier to find her if he took on his dragon form, but he doesn’t want to scare her. It’s not like he would take her… not like the past dragons would have. But she doesn’t know that. All she’d see is a monster searching for her, and she’d run for her life. So, he traveled by foot.

“Is anyone there?” she shouts. Her voice practically drips with honey, far warmer than he remembers anyone’s voice.

“Yes,” he calls out as he takes off running toward her voice.

The first thing he sees is her golden hair. Sunlight seems to bounce off her curls. She looks like a beacon of light compared to the dark woods surrounding her. She sits on the ground, her back against a tree as she holds onto her bare foot. The girl is young, possibly the same age as his little sister. And likely as reckless since she also came this close to the dragon’s tower all alone.

“Are you hurt?”

Her head twists in his direction. If her hair reminds him of the sun, then her eyes reflect the blue skies above. Bright and clear. He shouldn’t be gaping at her like this, but it’s hard to look away when she is so incredibly…

No, he shakes the thought away. That’s a far too dangerous thought to have about someone who will run away as soon as she learns what he is.

Her dress is far too ornate to be from his village. The tears in the fabric and mud on the hem tell him that she must have been traveling for quite a while before accidentally crossing into dragon territory.

“I think I twisted my ankle,” she whispers.

Bellamy tiptoes toward her, careful not to scare her. But she has no reason to think he is anything more than a man in the woods. He isn’t a monster to her just yet. For the few minutes before he sends her back to the village, Bellamy could be fully human again. Just a kind stranger who tends to her injury. A man who takes care of people… not the monster the entire village fears.

He kneels in front of her, eyeing the swelling around her exposed ankle. “You have to be careful around here. Rocks and roots will trip you up,” he says. When he reaches out to touch the swelling, she jerks her foot away. “Did that hurt?”

Her bright eyes are wide with panic before she shakes it off. “No, I just… sorry,” she stutters out, extending her leg out to him. She holds her breath as he touches her again, like she’s terrified he would break her.

It looks like she has a small sprain. Nothing to be too worried about. He has worked through far worse sprains in his life, but he doubts this girl has. Bellamy hasn’t gotten to travel much in his life, but he knows enough to recognize a noblewoman when he sees one. Her hands are too soft and uncalloused, her dress ornate, and her skin far too fair for someone who has to work.

She must be lost. That’s the only logical explanation for why she would be out here all alone. “It isn’t too bad. You can make it to the village on it. I can point you in the right direction,” he tells her.

“No, I can’t go to the village.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she looks up at him. “I am looking for a tower. It’s nearby, right?”

There is a nervousness behind her eyes, like she must know that the tower belongs to a dragon. “You don’t want to go to that tower,” he warns her.

Her head falls as her fingers fidget with the blue fabric of her dress. Her brows furrow, as if she is arguing with herself. Perhaps she’s talking herself out of whatever ridiculous reason she has for going to the tower. Or maybe she is like Octavia, determined to prove the stories wrong.

“I don’t want to, but I need to. Will you take me?”

“No.” He pushes himself up to his feet and extends his hand to help her up. She hesitates, but ultimately accepts. Her hand feels warm and soft inside his, and so very small. Almost fragile.

“Please.”

“I said no.”

“Will you at least tell me if I’m near the right one?” she snaps as he turns away. “I’m looking for the one where Bellamy lives.” His entire body freezes at the sound of his name. His heart beats a little faster. His throat runs dry.

There is no way they have ever crossed paths before. His village is far from the rest of the kingdom, secluded by rivers and mountains. No one but merchants and hunters ever travel through it, and Bellamy has never left. He knows each and every person who lives in that village, and she isn’t one of them. And if she were, she wouldn’t have to ask if this is the tower where Bellamy lives. The entire village knows he’s bound to the tower now, stuck until the day he dies.

He turns his head slowly, eyeing the girl. “I’m Bellamy.” The tension leaves her narrow shoulders and a weak smile forms on her lips.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighs.

“Why are you looking for me?” He regrets his harsh tone as soon as her relieved eyes fall. “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. No one ever looks for me.” No, they just avoid him. To the village, he is no longer the sweet boy who brought water to the Lemkin family every day after Tor’s accident. He isn’t Aurora’s doting son with her gift for sewing. He isn’t Octavia’s big brother who was willing to trade his life to keep her safe. He’s a monster to them now.

“I need your help. I was told you have the…” She presses her lips together and averts her gaze. “… dragon curse.”

“Hence why you shouldn’t be here,” he huffs. He touches her arm, trying to nudge her in the direction of the village, and she jerks her arm away in a panic. So, she is scared of him… not that he blames her. But it stings all the same. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she stutters out, fixing her gaze on the muddy path in front of her. “Just a reflex.” He waits for her to start moving toward the village, but she just presses her back against a tree.

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve heard the stories—”

“I’ve heard all the stories, but only one of them seems to be true. If the rest were, you would have abducted me and taken me up to the tower by now, right?” Those sharp eyes snap in his direction, almost sizing him up. “But you’re not planning to. She was right.”

“Who was right?”

“She never gave me her name,” she sighs. “She’s about my age. Dark hair, brown eyes, just arrived in the city as a servant. She said you would help me.”

It must be Octavia. There is no one left who even speaks his name anymore. And if this girl has crossed paths with his sister recently, that means Octavia is okay. Maybe even making good on her promise to find a way to free him.

“Will you?” she asks.

“And how exactly could a dragon help you? If you want me to attack someone, I can’t. Not unless they’re in my territory.”

“No, I’m not asking you to attack someone,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I need somewhere to hide where no one would dare go… like a dragon’s tower.” Bellamy gapes at her, slack jawed and confused. There has to be a better solution to her problems than throwing herself at the mercy of a dragon. If she had been wrong about Bellamy, she would have been risking being abducted by a dragon, never able to escape again. Nothing could be worth that risk. “Please. I’ve traveled all the way from Arkadia because she said you could help me.”

That is at least a two day’s journey by horse, though she doesn’t look like she traveled by horseback. No, she seems to have made her way here on foot.

Her eyes bore into his as she pleads, a panic behind them that he had only seen a few other times in his life. The most recent was in his sister’s eyes the last time he saw her… and that realization makes his chest pang.

He breaks away from her gaze, now looking down at the ground. “I don’t take women like the last one did,” he whispers. “I’m not a… well, I am a monster, but not like that. I don’t want to trap you in there.”

“Don’t think of it as trapping me.” She takes a step toward him, wincing only slightly when she puts weight on her bad ankle. “I’m asking for you to take me there.”

Octavia wouldn’t have sent her here unless she thought it was necessary. And this girl must be running from something horrible if she came all this way for a dragon.

“Okay,” he concedes, but he still doesn’t like it. Bellamy gestures with his head for the girl to follow, only remembering her hurt ankle as she stumbles after him. “How about I carry you?”

“No, I can walk.”

“It’s a long walk,” he counters, taking a step toward her. But she jumps as soon as he’s close enough to touch her, and he freezes. “Sorry. Didn’t meant to startle you.”

“It’s okay.” But her eyes scream that she is anything but okay. He tries holding his hand out to her, watching as her nervous eyes just stare at it for a moment before giving in and taking it. His movements are painstakingly slow as he pulls her toward him and picks her up. She remains tense, even once he has her in his arms. It’s clear that this girl doesn’t want to be touched, despite knowing it’s a necessity at the moment.

So, he walks as fast as he can to ease her discomfort. He sets her down once they arrive at the tower so he can locate the hidden door. Bellamy calls it the Murphy door, the one the Murphy family has used for generations to slip inside the tower and keep an eye on the dragon that resides there. He finally feels a crack in the wall and begins pulling off the stones to reveal the door. When he looks back at the girl, she isn’t watching him. She’s staring up at the tower, her eyes wide as she takes in the sight. He’ll admit it isn’t the most attractive building. Stones have started to crumble and it’s covered in thick moss, but it’s sturdier than it looks. This tower will outlive them all, surviving all the violence and tears this territory has been cursed with.

“Second thoughts?”

“No.”

He shakes his head as he pulls the rest of the stones out. Murphy will be livid when he comes back to the tower and sees how Bellamy messed with his door, but that is tomorrow’s problem. Today’s is getting an injured noblewoman up the tower. It’d be easier if he could fly her up there… but given how panicked she gets whenever he touches her, it’s probably best not to startle her any more for one day. Besides, he wants her to see there is a door she can use if she wants to escape. The last thing he wants is her to feel trapped here like he is.

Once the door is fully revealed, he holds his hand out for her again. She relaxes into his touch easier this time as he lifts her, though he knows she is just counting down the seconds until this part was over.

His thighs burn as he makes his way up the staircase, his arms growing weary with each story he climbs. His body cries out in relief when he finally sets her down at the very top, but he can’t brush off the pang in his chest when the girl jerks as far away as possible as soon as her feet touch the ground. It can’t just be because he’s a dragon. She responded the same way when he examined her ankle, and she had no idea what he was then.

She takes a hesitant step into the room, her head on a swivel as she takes in the new environment. “I know it’s probably not what you’re used to,” he sighs. This girl probably lived in some fancy estate with a room three times the size of this one. Her new room is bare, only containing a large bed by the single window and the remnants of this room’s last inhabitant, Octavia. There are cracks in the walls. He gave up trying to repair them years ago. After all, he never planned on having someone live in here.

“No, it’s perfect.”

She winces as she tries to make her way to the chair, and Bellamy rushes to grab it for her. “Let’s get you off that ankle,” he says as he sets the chair behind her. She plops down onto the chair, whimpering in relief once her weight is off her ankle. “Are you alright?”

“Quite fine.” She leans down to lift her skirt enough to inspect her ankle. But the reaching causes her sleeves to ride up, revealing a cluster of bruises above her wrist that appear to continue up her arms.

Bellamy examines her more closely, spotting a small bruise on her neck, hidden beneath her curls. Another beneath her jaw. With each dark mark marrying her soft pale skin he identifies, the girl makes more and more sense to him.

Someone hurt her. And that someone is who she’s running from.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy isn’t sure which is worse: the nights or the days. During the nights, the girl’s sobs echo through the tower until she is too exhausted to cry anymore. She tries to muffle the sound by heaving into her pillow, but when the rest of the area is completely silent, her quiet sobs might as well be screams.

One would think the days must be easier than listening to the heartbreaking sound of her sobs as he tries to sleep. But they’re not. They’re full of her staring out the window all day from the comfort of her bed, her face completely expressionless. He would try to talk to her, to take her mind off whatever haunted her, but it always proved fruitless. She’d murmur vague answers to his questions and fix her gaze back on the window.

Depressed doesn’t seem to be a strong enough word for the desolation that consumes her. Bellamy had once experienced something similar himself… and that was in the first year he was trapped here. His words would probably be little comfort to her. They are strangers, after all. So, he tries the only thing that kept him from falling apart all those years ago: he brings her books.

None of them are anything special, just worn copies of his favorite stories that Murphy had acquired for him over the years. He doubts she even notices him leaving them on the dresser for her. But one night, he catches her holding one of his favorite books up to the window so that the moonlight could illuminate the page enough for her to read it. He tiptoes out of the room, careful not to disturb one of her few moments of peace.

It gets easier once she starts reading. The sobs don’t last as long at night, and she gets out of bed during the day.

For the most part, her arrival hasn’t thrown much of his daily routine off. He just has to prepare more food than usual and check on her throughout the day. He finds that he kind of likes having her here. It gives him something to do each day, gives him someone to protect and look after.

But her presence has stopped him from his daily flights around the territory. He feels uneasy at the prospect of leaving her alone in the tower, given her distress. And he fears she might grow scared of him if she ever looks out the window and sees him in full dragon form out in the distance.

When the itch to get out and stretch his wings grows too strong, he decides to slip out early in the morning. She is hardly ever awake before noon. If he hadn’t been sure she was a noblewoman before, the fact that she sleeps the morning away would have made him certain.

The first stretch of his wings after all these weeks aches in the best way possible, as does the crisp air as he soars above the trees. Bellamy flies high enough to see the village, though that means the village could also see him. It pains him to know that the people he grew up beside now fear him, believing that he too would succumb to the darkness of this curse. But it pains him even more to spot his old home, an abandoned cottage just outside the main square… where he and Octavia would have footraces that he often let her win.

The ache dulls quickly. It’s been too many years since he last set foot in that home. Those wounds are mostly healed, or as much as those kinds of wounds could be healed, anyway. He shakes those thoughts away, focusing entirely on getting the most of his time out of the tower.

But as soon as he hears Murphy shout, “Is it time to terrorize the villagers?” from the ground, he knows his fun is over.

Bellamy finds him leaning against a tree, smirking at him as he landed. Murphy turns his head to the side as Bellamy transformed, only turning back when he is sure Bellamy is human again. “Don’t worry. It’s not like they never see you. They’re used to you scaring the hell out of them,” Murphy snorts.

“You aren’t funny,” Bellamy snaps, but Murphy laughs anyway, smacking Bellamy on the back as they walk toward the tower. “So, any news?”

“From the village? Roma ran off and eloped with some hunter that was passing through. It’s quite the scandal.” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Frankly, I’m grateful for new gossip. If I have to hear one more theory about that missing Arkadian princess…”

His eyes flicker up to the tower automatically. The girl did say she traveled from Arkadia… but surely, he would have known if she is a princess.

“Bellamy?” Murphy’s eyes narrow at Bellamy before his gaze shifts toward the tower.

“So, this hunter Roma ran off with—”

“Bellamy,” Murphy snaps. His eyes are now glaring at the exposed door and the stones Bellamy had carelessly tossed to the side when he first brought the girl to the tower. “There’s someone in that tower, isn’t there?”

“It’s not what you—” Murphy takes off running toward the tower. “Murphy!” Bellamy shouts as he sprints after him.

He ends up chasing Murphy up the stairs, only catching him when he is just feet away from the girl’s door at the very top.

“You’re gonna scare her,” Bellamy hisses, shoving Murphy up against the brick wall.

“I’m gonna scare her? I’m not the dragon who took her!”

“I didn’t take her!” Bellamy growls. “She wanted somewhere to hide.” Murphy’s shoulders relax, though his eyes still look skeptical. “I don’t have many details, but apparently, my sister told her that she could hide here. And she had all these horrible bruises all over like someone had been hurting her, so I let her stay.”

Murphy bites down on his lip and keeps his eyes on the door. “What’s her name?”

“She didn’t tell me.”

He curses under his breath. “I swear, if it turns out that you have the princess…” Bellamy steps back, finally releasing his friend. If this girl really is the princess, he’s in trouble. A random noblewoman could disappear easily, but a princess… well, an entire kingdom would be looking for her.

Murphy shakes his head as he nudges open the door, and Bellamy stays close behind him. Inside, she’s still asleep in bed. Her cheek rests on a page of an open book, and his chest warms at the realization that she must have fallen asleep while reading.

“Your Highness,” Murphy calls out. She jerks upright in a panic, her eyes wide as she glances between the two of them. “Great. The one time I get a good guy as a dragon, he accidentally kidnaps a princess.”

“He didn’t kidnap me!” she shouts, jumping to her feet.

“Do you really think that matters, Princess? It still looks like he took you.” He turns to Bellamy before muttering, “And you—”

“This is my fault,” she interrupts, stepping between Bellamy and Murphy. “I didn’t tell him who I was. Don’t get mad at him.” A small smile betrays its ay onto Bellamy’s face as he realizes she is trying to come to his rescue.

“Bringing you here was a huge mistake.”

“Murphy,” Bellamy growls. She looks over her shoulder at Bellamy, her blue eyes widening slightly. “She can stay as long as she wants.” He keeps his eyes on her as he speaks, praying she understands that he means it.

Murphy narrows his eyes at Bellamy before letting out an annoyed huff. Bellamy understands where Murphy is coming from. He’s only trying to protect him, just as all the past generations of the Murphy family had protected all the past dragons. “Your Highness,” he says through gritted teeth, “what happens to Bellamy if your fiancé shows up here looking for you?”

She doesn’t look at Bellamy. But he watches her, seeing her entire body go rigid at the question. “Murphy, go downstairs,” he whispers. Murphy opens his mouth to protest, but Bellamy just gives him a pointed look.

The princess doesn’t move from her spot as Murphy retreats to the stairs. He checks behind the door to make sure Murphy actually leaves before walking back to her. “Princess,” he whispers, and her head snaps in his direction.

“You don’t have to call me that.”

Bellamy plops down on the trunk beside her bed, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Well, you never gave me anything else to call you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks turn pink. “Clarke.”

“Clarke,” he repeats, testing her name out on his tongue.

Now that the earlier panic is subsiding, he notices how tangled her golden hair is from sleep. He could make out a small indention on her cheek from how she slept on that book. Not quite the vision of the princess he has in his head, but the title seems to suit her, nonetheless.

“Your friend is right,” she sighs. “I never considered how coming here could affect you. I should go.” Bellamy jumps to his feet as Clarke goes to grab her shoes and takes hold of her hand before she can get far.

She doesn’t yank her hand away this time. Instead, her eyes gape at him, wide and confused. “Don’t go,” he whispers. He waits for her to pull away, but her hand relaxes into his grip and she takes a hesitant step toward him.

“You have already helped me enough. I will figure something else out.” Clarke raises her chin up at him, feigning confidence as if he can’t see the panic behind her eyes. Bellamy knows she means it, though. She is ready to walk out of this tower and fend for herself so that no one else is caught in the crossfire.

But he can’t let her do that. For once, his curse could help someone. He might be a monster, but he can keep her safe from harm, safe from whoever hurt her.

“Tell me what happens if your fiancé finds you.” It’s a guess, of course. But there is a reason the mere mention of him caused her demeanor to shift earlier.

Clarke drops his hand and takes a step back, and his own hand starts to feel empty. Her eyes fall to the ground, and he hates himself for asking. “I’ll have to marry him. I know that sounds—”

“Princess,” he interrupts, and her jaw ticks. “Clarke,” he corrects, and her face softens ever so slightly. “Who is he?”

Clarke steps toward the bed, letting herself fall onto the mattress with a quiet thump. Her tangled hair spreads on the blanket beneath her, forming a messy little halo above her head. “Have you heard of the Mountain Men?” she whispers. He nods, his jaw too tense for him to speak. Everyone knows about the Mountain Men and their relentless assault on the lands surrounding them, especially Arkadia. Bellamy sits back on the trunk, pulling his arms around his knees and rests his head against the bedpost. Clarke’s eyes flicker up to meet his and she says, “He’s their prince.”

Bellamy slams his eyes shut, taking it all in as she keeps talking. “It’s part of an alliance we are trying to build. I was to return home with him to Mt. Weather and solidify the coalition with a marriage.” Bellamy could only shake his head, wondering how her family could sacrifice their daughter to one of those monsters. Especially for something as flimsy as an alliance. The mountain will go back on it whenever it is convenient. Clarke’s family just threw her toward a marriage with a dangerous man for nothing.

“I’m not running away from being married off. I’m not delusional. I never thought I’d get to fall in love and pick my husband. I always knew I’d be married off,” she explains. “I even agreed to the alliance, but then I met him and…” Bellamy holds his breath as she swallows, watching her jaw tense and clench as she works through what to say next.

“He hurt you,” he whispers, and Clarke’s eyes widen at him in surprise. “You’re staying here.” He pushes himself off the trunk and makes his way to the door.

“Did you not hear me when I said he is from the Mountain?” Clarke calls out while scrambling off the bed.

“Yes, and you will be safer here. End of discussion.” Her feet stomp toward him defiantly, and a small smirk forms on his lips.

“With all due respect, your friend is right. I am putting you in danger just by—”

“With all due respect, Princess,” he chuckles while turning around, “my friend is an idiot and I’m a dragon. If your fiancé has any brains, he won’t come anywhere near here. And if he decides to show up, I don’t like his odds.” Her mouth snaps shut, but he can tell she still wants to argue. Figures the princess is stubborn. He wouldn’t put it past her to try and bolt in the dead of night. “Please don’t run,” he sighs, trying a different tactic. “I want you to stay here.”

Clarke’s eyes blink in rapid succession and her lips part. When she doesn’t actually say anything, he speaks again. “Murphy sometimes brings things to the tower like supplies or books. Is there anything you need or want?”

She is still staring at him with wide eyes, and the heat rises to his cheeks. Admitting he wants her here feels like an overstep, even though it is true. He misses being around people and having someone to look after. Having her here doesn’t fix everything, but it makes the ache fade a little. And the idea of her being out there, all alone, where the man who hurt her could find her again… it makes his blood boil.

“I like to draw,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as if this is a secret. “Perhaps some paper to draw on?”

He glances back at her, seeing something like a concession in her eyes. She’s staying… for now.

“I’ll see what we can do, Princess,” he tells her. And the brightest smile forms on his lips as he walks out of her room.

 

* * *

 

 

“It won’t be too bad, will it?” Clarke asks, finally prying her eyes off her sketch to look up at Bellamy. A storm is coming through tonight, so he is nailing boards over her window to keep the water out.

“Depends on how much experience you have with storms, Princess,” he smirks, and the faintest huff escapes her lips. He never expected a royal would dislike her title so much, though he does have fun teasing her with it whenever he can.

Slowly, he is learning more and more about her. She’s a gifted artist. Her drawings are scattered across her entire room, each containing faces of the people she loves. She tells him a bit about some of them, like Wells, her best friend, and her father, the king. The others… well, she merely offers a name when Bellamy asks and then changes the subject.

“Arkadia has a lot of storms this time of year, but we always rode those out in the castle, never in a—”

“Centuries old dragon’s tower?” he snorts, glancing at the cracks in the wall. “It might be a little louder than you’re used to, but I promise it’s safe during a storm.”

“You also promised that you know what you’re doing, and yet I’ve watched you hit your thumb with that hammer three different times.” A small smile forms on his lips and he drops his head, swallowing a chuckle. When he glances over at Clarke, there’s a soft smirk on her lips.

This is the other thing he learned about Clarke… she’s funny. Not cracking jokes every minute but getting a clever remark in whenever he least expects it. She constantly catches him off guard with her snark, making Bellamy laugh in a way that he hadn’t in years.

“You are more than welcome to take over if you think you can do better.” His eyebrow raises in a challenge, and Clarke presses her lips together. After a beat, she sets her papers to the side and stands up. “I was kidding.” She holds her hand out impatiently for the hammer, and he rolls his eyes as he puts it in her hand. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely not,” she giggles. He tries to take the hammer back, but she pulls it out of his reach. “Let me try.”

He lets out a huff while getting the nail in place. She stares at it for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. “It’s really not complicated, Clarke. Just hit it.” A small wince flashes across her face as the hammer comes down, and Bellamy can’t hold in his laughter as she merely taps the nail.

“What is so funny?”

“Alright, let me show you,” he snickers, moving behind her. He rests his hands over hers on the hammer and he feels the smallest of twitches in her hand. It has been a while since he first found her in the woods, since she first jerked away from him when he tried to examine her ankle. He couldn’t forget the panicked look in her eyes or the way his stomach twisted in response… or how that panic still filters through her eyes every time he accidentally touches her.

He pulls his hand away quickly, his mind already seizing in panic. Clarke finally seems to be getting better. She doesn’t cry through the night anymore, she actually gets out of bed each day, and he catches her smiling as she sketches. The last thing he wants is to rattle her or remind her of the man she’s running from.

“It’s alright,” she whispers as if reading his mind. “Show me.”

Bellamy worries his bottom lip as he slowly covers her hand with his. Her skin is impossibly soft beneath his fingertips, and he worries his calloused hand would feel too rough on hers. “It’s not enough to just tap it. Otherwise, you’ll be doing that all day.” He tightens his grip on her hand and guides her through the first swing.

“Oh.”

“See?” Bellamy lets go and takes a step backward. Without him prompting, Clarke takes another swing.

A bright smile takes over her lips as she turns back to look at Bellamy. “Did I do it?” she asks, and he can’t help but beam at her. She hasn’t looked this excited since Murphy first brought her paper to sketch on. That smile doesn’t show up often, but when it does, its beauty nearly stops his heart.

“You did.” She keeps hammering away until the nail is in, that smile never leaving her face.

“Can I do another?”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he gets another nail ready. He can’t help but steal glances at her beautiful grin as she hammers away, feeling something warm flutter in his chest each time he looks at her.

 

* * *

 

 

The knock on his door might have startled him if he couldn’t hear each of Clarke’s steps, starting from when she jumps out of bed and begins rushing toward the stairs. Bellamy is on his feet with his hand on the doorknob by the time Clarke gets around to knocking on it. He opens it so quickly that Clarke jumps. “Everything alright, Prin—” A loud crack of thunder cuts him off, and Clarke flinches.

“Could I stay in here until it passes?” she whispers. His eyes look her over, seeing she is wearing only her nightgown and a blanket around her shoulders.

Bellamy steps back and gestures for her to come in, though he is self-conscious about how untidy his room is. He has books and clothes scattered across the room.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, of course not.” Her eyes scan the room as he speaks. It takes him a beat too long to realize she’s looking for somewhere to sit. He nearly trips over himself as he pulls his unfolded laundry off the nearest chair. “I didn’t realize you were scared of storms.”

“I’m not,” she huffs, holding her chin up high. Bellamy raises an eyebrow as he sinks down on the chair across from her. “Well, I wasn’t.”

He pulls a book off the table and flips it open to the last page he dogeared. “It’s your first storm away from home. I get it.” Another crack of thunder tears through the sky, and Clarke jumps again. “Try distracting yourself.

Clarke bites down on her lip before pushing up from the chair. He lets his eyes follow her as she makes her way to his makeshift bookshelf. It’s strange seeing her in his space, though not entirely unpleasant. Her fingers glide over the book spines as she searches for one she wants to read, her touch gentle as if she’s trying not to hurt the books.

“Why do you have so many books about dragons?”

“Murphy thinks it’s funny to get them for me,” he huffs.

Clarke whips her head around to look at him, her eyes wide. “They’re all stories where the dragon gets killed!”

“I never said Murphy had a good sense of humor.” He has read them all, desperate for something new to read even though he knows he wouldn’t care for the stories. Too many strong, flawless knights or dainty, defenseless princesses for his taste. “I don’t mind them that much. The dragon isn’t really part of the story, just a monster for the hero to defeat so he can save the damsel in distress.”

Clarke’s brows are furrowed as she selects a book. “The damsel in distress isn’t really part of the story either.” Bellamy cocks his head to the side as she sits back down. “Just a trophy for the hero to win.”

“You aren’t a trophy, Clarke.”

“And you aren’t a monster.” She doesn’t look up as she says it, instead flipping the book open as she gets comfortable. He finds himself smiling, though he averts his gaze so she doesn’t catch him staring. “This damsel doesn’t even have a name. She’s just the Duke’s daughter,” she huffs. Bellamy snaps his book shut and watches her angrily flip the page. “So far, I have a long list of this prince’s accolades, but all I know about her is that she’s beautiful.”

Clarke keeps narrating her thoughts as she reads, and Bellamy gives up all pretense of reading his own book. He kicks his legs onto the table, sinking comfortably in his chair as he listens to her complain about the story.

Bellamy isn’t sure when he dozes off, but when his eyes open again, the candle has gone out and the storm has ceased. Clarke is fast asleep, curled up in the chair with her cheek pressed against the armrest. Her curls have fallen over her face, obscuring her eyes from view.

An odd calm washes through him as he gazes at her. Maybe it’s just because for the first time in years, he isn’t all alone. Or maybe it’s because Clarke feels safe enough around him to fall into a peaceful slumber.

Carefully, he lifts her up from the chair. He freezes when he feels Clarke start to stir. She sleepily wraps her arms around his neck and sighs into his shirt. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers, and she buries her face into his chest, murmuring something he can’t make out.

He tiptoes up to her room, careful not to rouse her any more. Bellamy pauses in front of her bed, almost hesitant to put her down so soon. It’s ridiculous how warm his chest grows just from holding her for a few brief moments. Perhaps he is more touch starved than he thought… hence why he aches at the idea of letting her go.

Eventually, he does set her down. Something flips in his chest when a sleepy sigh escapes Clarke’s lips and she wraps her arms around the pillow. She looks so content and peaceful like this, without a care in the world. What he would give for her to always get to be like this…

Right as he is walking toward the door, he spots a few of her drawings that have fallen onto the floor. He crouches down quietly to pick them up and set them back on the dresser. These are mostly drawings of her view from the window. Flowers and trees, an occasional bird here and there. But Bellamy’s heart stops when he picks up the last drawing and sees himself soaring through the skies. Clarke had drawn him as a dragon.

He keeps the drawing in hand as he ducks out of her room, waiting until he is close enough to the light before looking at it again. Dark brown scales, long wingspan, brown eyes… it’s him alright. Bellamy has only caught small reflections of himself in the pond while flying over it, so it’s odd seeing him in his dragon form. He doesn’t look as scary as he imagined. There is something kind of gentle in how Clarke draws him. He looks less like a dragon and more like… well, he isn’t quite sure. But it certainly isn’t the image that has been burned into his mind.

His fingers trace over the drawing, and it slowly dawns on him that each line was drawn by Clarke… that she sat at that window, watching him, and decided to draw him. Bellamy’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling where Clarke is fast asleep above him. A smile tugs at his lips, and a light, almost relieved chuckle escapes the back of his throat.

She drew him. Clarke only ever draws her family and friends, the people she loves. And now… she’s drawing him.

 

* * *

 

 

After learning that she watches him fly, he now catches her gazing up at him from her window while he stretches his wings. Sometimes, she’s slowly waking up. Her cheek would be propped up on her hand as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Clarke watches for a few minutes before falling back asleep on the windowsill. And then, her eyes occasionally flutter open to sleepily watch him for a few moments before they grew too heavy again.

Other times, Clarke stares wide-eyed at him as he soars over the trees, not even bothering to try to draw him. Those mornings are his favorite. There is always this excitement behind her eyes, this curious energy he doesn’t see much of in the tower.

And then, there are mornings like today where she draws him, scribbling down his likeness as quickly as she can manage each time he comes into view. Her drawings have grown more detailed with each morning she watches him. First, she mastered his eyes. Then, his face. And slowly, drawing after drawing, Clarke has become an expert on sketching Bellamy Blake. He can’t get past how gentle she makes him look, somehow transforming him from a monster to a work of art.

He practically skipped back into the tower, eager to catch a glimpse of the sketch she has been playing around with for the past few days. But as he reaches the top, two voices are heard on the other side of Clarke’s door.

“Murphy?” he calls out before pushing the door open. Murphy is plopped down on the trunk, brows furrowed as Clarke paces in front of him. “What’s going on?”

Clarke’s eyes flicker over to Murphy, whose gaze has dropped down to his lap. She wrings her hands as she waits for him to say something.

“Prince Cage is looking for her,” Murphy whispers, and on instinct, Bellamy moves toward Clarke.

“Apparently, I was spotted near Tondc, so they know I was traveling south.” Bellamy grabs her hand, desperate for some way to reassure her. After a beat, she turns her shaking hand so he can hold it properly. He feels this urge to pull her close to his chest, to remind her that she’s safe here with him. But he refrains since he isn’t quite sure how much Clarke wants to be touched right now.

“He won’t find you here,” he promises her.

“He might,” Murphy huffs, and Bellamy shoots him a warning glare. “Look, the merchant didn’t know much, but he said the current theory is that Clarke was abducted. If her fiancé shows up to search the village and finds out there is a dragon tower nearby, he will look for her here!”

“Murphy!” Bellamy snaps. “Go—”

“Go downstairs. I know, I know,” Murphy grumbles as he heads toward the door. “I’m just saying I can get her out of town safely. You don’t have to yell at me.”

Clarke waits until Murphy shuts the door before speaking. “He’s right. I should leave.”

“What?” Clarke drops his hand when he takes a step toward her. “Don’t listen to him, Clarke. You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Here bright eyes flicker up to his, and she wears this weak smile that makes his heart stutter. “I know that,” she whispers with too much warmth and affection for him to handle. “I just…”

“I’ll keep watch. Murphy will keep his ears open. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but never actually does. Instead, she murmurs, “Alright.” He can’t help but feel uneasy when she takes her spot back by the window.

So, he keeps an eye on her all day, noting the way she avoids making eye contact and seems to clam up whenever Bellamy talks to her. Something is going on in that head of hers.

He doesn’t figure out what it is until he hears Clarke’s quiet footsteps in the dead of night.

He leaps out of bed in a panic, throwing a shirt on as he darts out his door. Just moments later, her door opens, revealing Clarke, fully dressed with a bag in hand. He should have known she would try to run.

“Where are you going?” he asks, running up the steps toward her. As he gets closer, he sees the tears forming in her eyes.

“I have to leave, Bellamy.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs, resting his hand on her arm. Clarke ducks her head, shaking it slightly. “Did Murphy say something to scare you?”

“No.”

“Then, why are you running?” His voice starts to break. “I promise you that I’ll keep you safe.” He isn’t sure how else he can convince her to stay, and he starts to feel desperate. The idea of her out there all alone made something sharp turn in his stomach. No, she can’t leave. She can’t leave him.

“I know you would.” He jumps when Clarke reaches up to cup his cheek. His body has long forgotten what it’s like to be touched, especially this gently. Bellamy lets his eyes fall shut, savoring her soft fingers brushing across his skin. “You have such a big heart, Bellamy.”

“Clarke—”

“But I can’t let you get hurt because of me.”

His eyes fly open and Clarke is peering up at him. When she tries to pull her hand away from his cheek, he grabs it and presses a small kiss to her palm. There is a small hitch in her breath, just loud enough to have his heart pounding. “I’m not going to be hurt. I can take care of myself,” he reassures her.

“Bellamy, what happens to the dragons in all those stories?”

_They are slain_ , he refuses to admit. Slaughtered. Heads turned into trophies for ambitious princes to show off to their fathers.

That’s why she is trying to run. To protect _him_. The fear in her eyes isn’t for her own safety but for his.

He presses a second kiss to her palm, his body burning with affection for his princess. “You and I both know those stories are all nonsense,” he whispers, taking a small step towards her. She is just inches away from him now, craning her neck to gaze up at him. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches up to cup her cheek. Her creamy skin is impossibly soft beneath his fingertips, almost as soft as the gaze in her eyes. He feels himself melt into her, wanting nothing more to gather her in his arms where she will always be warm and safe. “Cage is not a hero on a noble quest. You are certainly not a damsel in distress. And I—”

Clarke rests her hand over his heart. “And you are no monster. Far from it, in fact.” His throat grows dry at her words. All he can do is stare at her, wondering how he survived so long in this tower before her.

“This is nothing like all those fairytales. We won’t have the same ending. I promise.” His eyes fall shut as he takes a deep breath. “Please, don’t leave. Stay with me.”

“Promise me that you won’t get hurt,” she insists, and a weak smile forms on his lips.

“I promise. Now, promise me that you’ll stay.”

“I promise.” Bellamy lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he has been holding, and his head falls onto Clarke’s shoulder. The two of them stand there for a few moments, neither one of them seeming eager to move.

It’s Bellamy who pulls away first, and he instantly misses having her close. “How about you get some sleep?” Clarke’s eyes drift over to her door before they drop to the ground. “Good night, Princess,” he tells her as he turns away.

“Wait.” He jerks his head back in her direction, seeing her worry her bottom lip. “Could you stay up with me a bit longer?” Bellamy blinks a few times in her direction but manages a nod.

He can’t think of anything to say to her as he follows behind her. Clarke doesn’t say anything either. She just pulls the pins out of her hair, letting her curls fall back into place. He turns around as she changes for bed, only letting himself look at her again after he hears her climbing into bed. Bellamy takes his spot on the trunk, his back against the bedpost, as Clarke curls onto her side so she can look at him.

“What’s flying like?” she whispers.

“Incredible,” he admits. “You feel so light, like nothing can bother you up there.”

“You can see everything from up there, I imagine.”

“Anything the trees don’t cover. I can make out the whole village. The mountains are gorgeous from up there,” he tells her, watching her curious eyes grow wide. “There is this waterfall not too far from the village. Moonlight bounces off the water beautifully at when I’m flying at night.”

He keeps describing the various things he sees while flying, loving how enraptured she is by each word. Clarke could probably draw everything he sees up there perfectly just from his descriptions, but he wants her to see it all too. Maybe one day, when the threat of Cage is gone, he can take her on a flight… let her see how beautiful the world is.

Despite how hard Clarke tries to keep her eyes open, exhaustion takes over. He keeps talking to her, slowing his words and lowering his voice to help lull her to sleep. When her breathing finally evens out, Bellamy quietly shifts off the trunk.

He makes it three steps before the floor creaks under his foot. “Bellamy?” Clarke murmurs. He turns back to look at her, and she is sitting up, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “Are you leaving?”

“It’s late.”

“Oh.” His heart pangs at the disappointment in her voice.

“Clarke—”

“Good night, Bellamy.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Clarke bites down on her lip and looks down at her hands. After a beat, she shakes her head. “No, you need your rest. Sorry I kept you up so long.”

“You didn’t keep me up. I like talking to you,” he promises as he strides back toward her bed. He leans against the bedpost as he examines her, trying to figure out what is troubling her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, lying back down. Her eyes don’t meet his. There is a blush on her cheeks as she speaks, so faint that Bellamy almost misses it. “I just always miss you when you leave for the night.”

Clarke must hear how his heart pounds. Or at the very least, his sharp intake of breath. It’s all he can hear as he processes her words. He watches as she swallows and struggles to meet his eyes again. His hands itch to touch her, to take her hands in his and reassure her that he feels the same. But he stays completely still, waiting for Clarke to say something else.

“Could you…” she whispers before she finally meets his eyes. “Would you stay?” Her nervous eyes bore into his, like a silent plea from him to stay with her. And he almost chuckles at her sudden shyness. It’s as if she hasn’t a clue that there is nothing he would deny her.

“I will stay,” he grins, and the way her eyes light up in excitement makes his cheeks warm. Bellamy isn’t sure anyone has ever looked at him the way Clarke does.

Clarke slides over to the other side of the bed, patting the spot beside her. His heart pounds louder as he slips into bed, so loud that he doesn’t hear Clarke slide closer to him. He’s overwhelmed by how much this bed smells like her, all soft and floral. When he turns his head, she’s on her side, staring at him with those piercing eyes of hers. Bellamy turns onto his side too, facing her.

“Is this okay?” she whispers, and he manages a nod. Bellamy forces his eyes shut, knowing that he will just keep staring at her if he lets them stay open. But then, he feels her touch his hand. He opens one eye just in time to see Clarke lace her fingers with his. “Is this okay?”

Bellamy tightens his grip on her hand, giving her a soft squeeze. “This is okay,” he promises, and the sweetest of smiles forms on her lips.

The last thing on his mind before falling asleep is wondering how it is possible to be so in love with a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

He sleeps there every night, now. The two of them whisper in the dark until one or both of them fall fast asleep. But as each night passes, Bellamy finds it harder to fall asleep.

Each passing second is a step closer to when Cage and his fellow Mountain Men storm into the village looking for Clarke. Whenever he shuts his eyes, his mind seizes in a panic over all the things that could go wrong. So, he often finds himself watching Clarke sleep until his exhaustion takes over and he cannot help but sleep.

Tonight, he stares out the window while Clarke’s head rests in his lap. He knows they probably won’t arrive in the dead of night, but he can’t help but keep a look out just in case.

“How good is Cage with a sword?” he asks.

“He’d be the best swordsman I know if his own ego didn’t get in the way,” she sighs. Bellamy pushes her hair out of her face, letting his thumb rest on her cheekbone. “Are you worried?”

“No,” he lies. Clarke’s knowing eyes narrow at him. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“How did you become a dragon?” He presses his lips together as he combs his fingers through her hair. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s alright,” he sighs. He probably should have told her the story sooner. “The dragon that was trapped in the tower before me was a boy from my village, Atom. Murphy says he got the curse because he wanted to show off how tough he was to his friends by slaying the dragon.” That boy should have listened to the stories. Then, he would have known how the curse works.

“So, why did you… you know...” Clarke struggles to get around the truth of it.

“Why did I kill him?” he asks, keeping his gaze out the window. “Growing up, my sister was always enamored with him, despite my warnings. So, almost a year after he inherited the dragon curse, Octavia went to him without telling anyone. Days went by. I searched everywhere for her. My mom had just died the year before, so I was terrified of losing her too.”

“Did he—”

“He took her. Snatched her up as soon as her feet crossed into the territory. Murphy was the one to tell me where she was. He even helped me sneak into the tower in the dead of night while Atom was asleep to rescue her. It was supposed to be quick and bloodless.”

“Bell,” Clarke whispers, grabbing ahold of his hand.

Bellamy takes a deep breath. “Octavia was so scared when I found her. She called out for me and ran right into my arms… and accidentally woke up Atom. When he rushed upstairs, I didn’t think twice about running my knife through him. I wanted him dead after what he did to Octavia.”

Clarke pushes herself up, her hands reaching for his cheeks. Her eyes are full of concern as she gazes at him, more concern that he deserves. Bellamy rests his hands over hers, giving her a weak smile. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

“Don’t be. I’d do it all again.” Having to kill a monster to save someone he loves is an easy choice to make. And he just might have to make that choice again if Cage shows up.

Clarke’s eyes soften in the way they always seem to when she looks at him, but she doesn’t say anything else. When she pulls her hands away, he opens his mouth to protest… but then, she scoots down so she can rest her head on his chest, right over his heart. His arms wrap around her immediately, pulling her as close to him as possible. Bellamy rests his head on top of hers, a smile forming on his lips when he hears Clarke’s contented sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy is in the middle of his morning flight when he sees a large group of men congregating in the village. They’re too far away for him to make out a single face, but it’s clear these men aren’t from around here.

He rushes back to the tower, circling it quickly to make sure the Murphy door is properly sealed before flying up to the window, and transforms back into a human right as his feet touch the windowsill.

Clarke stirs in bed as Bellamy lands inside, not even lifting her head to see his alarm. “Clarke,” he calls out, and she jerks up in a panic. “I think he’s here.”

She rushes out of bed, throwing a shawl over her bare shoulders while she runs toward her door. He follows after her, and the two of them run in silence down the stairs toward his room.

Once they’re inside, Bellamy heads to his bookshelf and starts tossing books to the side as he locates where he hid his knife… the same knife he used to kill Atom all those years ago. “Remember, do not open this door unless you are certain it is me on the other side,” he warns. If everything goes according to plan, that won’t be an issue. He finally locates the knife and puts it in Clarke’s hands. Her eyes widen at him in a panic. “Just in case,” he whispers.

“Bellamy,” she calls out as he darts toward the door. But this isn’t the time to talk. Any moment now, those men could head toward the tower to get Clarke. “I just wanted to say—"

“Clarke, I have to hurry,” he huffs. She grabs his hand before he can make it out the door. When Bellamy looks back at her, Clarke’s bottom lip is quivering and her eyes are welling with tears. “Everything will be okay,” he promises, taking a step toward her so he could cup her cheek.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Before you know it, I’ll be knocking on that door telling you that you’re safe now,” he whispers. But his words seem useless. So, he pulls her into his arms for a brief moment, pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, before forcing himself to let go and leave the room, waiting until he hears Clarke begin to push furniture in front of the door before darting back up the stairs.

Bellamy gets a running start out the window, his wings extending as soon as his feet push off the windowsill. He gets as high as he can, looking all over village for where the men might have gone. But they are no longer in sight… which means they’re in the woods, on their way to the tower.

He circles the tower while waiting for any sound to give the Mountain Men away. When he hears one of them laughing, he takes off in their direction. There is a clearing near them. If he could get them into it, he could take them all out from above. Moving quickly, he weaves around the trees, careful not to make a sound.

“Shoot to injure, not to kill,” he hears one of the men order. They must have arrows then… which might be a problem. “I will get the final shot.”

“Your Highness, you’ve heard the stories about what happens if you kill a dragon,” another man snaps.

“Those are just old folk tales, Emerson,” the first man, Cage, mutters.

Before they can say anything else, Bellamy lets the fire flow off his breath to the surrounding bushes and trees. He shoots back up into the sky right as the Mountain Men start running toward the clearing. He’s faster than they are, able to start another fire on the other side of the clearing to trap them there.

Bellamy waits until they catch up before flying over the clearing. Arrows begin flying past him, most of them aiming for his wings. But one man, the one with pale skin and raven black hair, aims right at Bellamy’s chest. _Cage_.

The rage burns in his chest as he swoops down to the clearing. He keeps his eyes locked on Cage as he releases flames directly onto the soldiers, but one of them shoves Cage out of the way. Before Bellamy can take him out, another soldier shoots an arrow directly into his wing.

He almost crashes into the very flames he created. His other wing flaps hard enough so that he can get to a small patch of unscorched earth. He turns right as a soldier approaches him with a sword and lets the blaze rain down on him before he can get close enough to strike.

Bellamy looks across the clearing, seeing two injured men retreat towards the village. The rest are scattered across the burning grass, incapacitated. He checks each of them, but none of them are Cage. That monster must have gotten away while Bellamy was under attack. His injured wing burns as he takes to the sky again. He fights through the pain so he can locate Cage in the woods before he gets anywhere near Clarke

But no matter how much ground Bellamy covers, he can’t seem to find him. It isn’t until he looks over at the tower that Cage comes into view. He’s scaling the side of the tower using two daggers to keep from slipping, now just feet away from reaching Clarke’s window.

Bellamy takes off toward the tower, but his injured wing slows him down. Tears sting in his eyes as he desperately tries to get back to her, and a scream that is far from human escapes his throat when he sees Cage’s hand grip the windowsill.

But the panic he feels as Cage pulls himself onto the ledge doesn’t compare to the terror that takes over when he sees Clarke step out in front of the window.

“Clarke, I finally found—"

The knife Bellamy gave to Clarke lodges into his chest before Cage can finish that sentence. The prince’s bloodcurdling scream echoes throughout the territory as Clarke pulls the knife back out. And with a hard shove, Clarke sends him barreling toward the ground.

Her tearful eyes flicker up to meet his right as Cage’s body slams against the dirt. Her gaze shifts to his injured wing, and her eyes widen with a panic.

She moves out of his way as he approaches the window. His transformation is far from graceful this time. His feet slip as he lands on the windowsill, and Clarke wraps her arms around him to help pull him inside.

Her hands rest on either side of his face as she frantically looks him over. “Let me see your arm,” she pants, her hands shaking as she guides him to sit up on the floor. He can only stare at her as she gets to work pulling the arrow out. Tears stream down her cheeks while she works, and all he wants is to pull her into his chest.

_She’s okay,_ he reminds himself. _Cage didn’t hurt her._

The arrow being ripped from his arm hurts far worse than it did when he was first shot with it. The only thing stopping him from screaming is Clarke’s soft humming as she examines the injury. He lets his eyes fall shut while she works, focusing only on her quiet sounds. The pain remains, but it feels duller somehow.

Clarke tears a strip from the hem of her nightgown and wraps it around his injured bicep. He opens his eyes when he feels Clarke lifting his chin, and she’s scanning his entire body, looking for bruises and cuts. “That is the only injury,” he says, and her shoulders relax. Finally, her bright blue eyes flicker up to meet his. “You were supposed to stay downstairs,” he teases.

“I was worried about you.” A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches up to push a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I was so scared that something would—”

“Nothing happened to me,” he reminds her, and Clarke’s tearful eyes drift back toward his arm. His fingers tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “That’ll heal, Princess.”

“I know, but—”

Before she can finish her protest, Bellamy leans forward and presses his lips against hers. It’s a quick kiss, far quicker than he ever wanted their first kiss to be. He rests his forehead against hers once their lips part and whispers, “I’d take a hundred more arrows like that one if it kept you safe from harm.”

Clarke makes no move to pull away. Her lips are a breath away from his. Her bright eyes blink rapidly. Slowly, her hand travels up to his cheek. It takes a few moments for her to speak, and when she does open her mouth, she asks, “Only a hundred?”

A loud snort escapes him before he can stop it, and Clarke erupts into the most beautiful giggle he has ever heard. “Make it a thousand, then,” he chuckles before pecking her lips again. “Whatever it takes to keep the princess I love safe.”

“The princess you love?”

There is a blush on her cheeks as Bellamy trails his thumb across her bottom lip. “The princess I love,” he repeats. There is a sharp inhale of breath at his words, and for a moment, he’s scared that he said too much. But then, Clarke tilts her head slightly and her lips press into his. She’s tentative, almost shy, as she kisses him.

“I love you,” she whispers against his mouth. “You already knew that, right?”

He can’t help but smile now, which makes his responding kiss too messy. But she kisses him back just as forcefully, tangling her fingers through his curls while humming into his mouth. He wraps his good arm around her back to pull her as close to him as possible, and she melts into him like she has always belonged right here.

Bellamy looks around the room. This cursed tower has seen so much bloodshed over the centuries. It’s heard all kinds of screams and tears. And now, this tower gets to witness love too.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i've neglected all my other projects for this fic, but tbh i'm not even a little sorry. i loved writing this. it's my baby. 
> 
> you can come yell at me on twitter or tumblr @asroarke. comments and kudos always appreciated. love y'all!


End file.
